


They Would've Been Eleven

by Edwynn



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Birthday, Child Death, Gen, pre-release
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 20:23:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11539788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edwynn/pseuds/Edwynn
Summary: Two days a year, Robert spends what little money he has on gifts. It's always the first day that hurts him the most.





	They Would've Been Eleven

**Author's Note:**

> Bouncing around an idea I had.
> 
> A warning ahead of time, this story was written before Dream Daddy officially released. As such, this story is heavily based around the theory of Robert's route being based around the death of his child. This theory could prove to be true, or be disproved in favor of another one. If it out Robert's child is alive and well when the game releases, take this story with a grain of salt.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy!

He never paid much attention to what the hip, new toy was. He didn’t know what was popular with the young ones, what kids eagerly shoved in their backpacks to show off to their friends, even with their parent’s warning. All these toys were to him were slightly different variation of dolls, weird boxes with tiny cartridges and CDs contained within, cartoon characters with limited mobility.

But still, he took his time, evaluating each dead-eyed stare the stuffed animals possessed, reading the blurbs on the Legos of safety hazards and the lore the construction was based on. Still he would press the “try me” buttons on the talking pieces of plastic, hearing what kind of hell screech they reverbed, still he would fumble with the locked controller to experience a taste of the newest released video game, what kind of bells and whistles the system it was played on possessed.

It was hard to know what a kid would like. Little girls were expected to love mini-ovens and dress-up dolls, little boys were told to love army men and footballs. But the reality was that kids weren’t focused on following expectations and only pay attention to the ads focused on their demographic; they wanted what looked fun, what piqued their own interests. Often they would tug on their parents’ sleeves, pulling them to the TV as the advertisement played out how exciting this toy was. Often they would make lists of things they thought would be awesome to have; even if it turned out that toy was hundreds of dollars, even if it turned out that toy didn’t even exist.

He wish he had that kind of guidance, some kind of idea to bounce off of. Instead of him trying to piece together some sort of idea of what his child would’ve liked, based on what they were like before. He wish he could hear their voice, yelling at their dad in excitement as one toy caught their eye.

Instead, he simply lets his right arm hang limply, imaging their hand was holding on to his own.

It was a bi-yearly tradition for him. To look through the toys and ponder, debate with himself over if they would’ve wanted the kinetic sand over the scented markers. Most likely he would buy both and say “screw it” to a decision.

_ “You know you’re spoiling them, right?” _ a phantom voice echoed in his head, a phrase that once filled him with embarassed joy. Now it just brings forth empty pangs in his gut.

He didn’t care how high the total at the end of the check-out rang. He didn’t care if he came up short on cash and had to write a bad check. He could survive a few days with a growling stomach, but he couldn’t skip these traditions he set forth for himself.

He could survive on crappy canned soups. Not so much if he ignored the two days of the year that both tormented and eased him.

There was a soft limit on his purchases. No matter how much the total came to, he wouldn’t walk out with any less than five toys. It could go above, however much he felt like splurging that time around; but it would’ve been a disservice to the days if he skimped out.

And the toys had to have meaning. He refused to just pick the first five toys he saw and say “it’s good enough.” He would spend hours pondering, looking down every aisle, backtracking and speculating in his head why they would’ve liked this toy, but also why they wouldn’t have. He would take him time finding a connection the toy had to his child, to their personality.

He remembered that spark of creativity they had in them. He remembered coming home from work and being presented a picture of a flower or “scary” monster being slain by a wizard. He remembered catching them doodling on the walls in an attempt to help decorate. He remembered the scolding he had to give when they smudged his significant other’s lipstick all over their face, to try and be as pretty as they were.

He recalled that bear they always carried around. Worn down and had to be patched at least once a week. They had always wanted to have a real pet bear, and swore when they grew up, they would have a house full of baby bears. It made him smile whenever he heard them talk about making a circus with their bears; one would juggle, one would dance, one would walk on a tightrope, one would perform magic tricks.

The memories were as poisonous as they were sweet. Depending on the day, they were either a flashback to better days, or a harsh reminder of the reality he lived.

He bought seven toys this time. Not as many as before, but carefully picked out, nonetheless. One was an odd toy, an egg that apparently would hatch into some kind of animatronic animal if given enough attention. One was what he gathered was a current fad, sparkly goop that almost looked like a corporeal version of the starry sky.

Miscellaneous merchandise, all for the ghost of a child long gone.

The phone rings as he cranks his car, the chorus of “Livin’ on a Prayer” playing in a muffled tone. Cliched, but at least it was a change from the default setting of church bells ringing. He didn’t even need to look at the caller ID to know who it was, and with a slide of the finger, he answered with “What is it, crucifix.”

“Hi to you too, Robert,” the more gentle voice of his friend answered as the voice of a child complaining about boredom sounded out in the background. “Uh, I’m really sorry for the bother, but are you on the way yet? The kids are getting antsy with waiting-”

“Fuck sake, that woman dumped the kids on ya again?” Robert interrupted before his friend could continue, giving out a groan of exasperation. “Yeah, hold up, I’m pulling out of the parking lot now. Should be there in like, ten minutes.”

The man on the other end of the phone gave his own, tired sigh at his friend’s response. “Yeah, Mary sorta just walked out without saying anything right as I was about to leave. Probably meeting up with someone, I don’t know.”

“That woman is ridiculous, she can’t even take one day out of her “busy” schedule to watch her kids for once?”

“I don’t know,” was repeated from the other man. “How much damage you do this time?” was the next line, a thread to a new discussion.

“A lil over two hundred. I have it covered this time, Joseph, don’t worry.”

“You have money for food?”

“I have enough.”

“What about bills?”

“Probably enough.”

"Robert, please, if you need money there’s no shame in-”

“What part of “I have it covered” did you not understand?” some aggravation sounded, a bit of unintended aggression.

“I’m sorry, I just… sorry,” Joseph said carefully, measuring his words and tone to avoid angering his friend on this day.

A bit of silence happened between the men, the only noise being the garbled voices of impatient children, before Robert gave a defeated sigh. “Nah, don’t be sorry. You’re just doing what you feel is right, I don’t need to make ya feel bad about it.”

“But I don’t need to-” a piercing shriek interrupted the man before he could finish his sentence, one loud enough to make even Robert flinch. “Hold on,” was barely heard over the noise before he could hear his friend scolding his children, his voice a bit louder than usual, but not in a yelling sort of way. Just loud enough to get his children’s attention, loud enough to let them know they were being reprimanded.

It took almost a minute for Joseph to calm his kids down. The entire time, Robert just held the phone to his ear, his eyes focused on the road. Dull and void of any real emotion as he listened to the background noise.

It reminded him of the times his own kid would throw fits over the most trivial occurrences. Be it the times he drove past their favorite fast food joint without stopping to get them a kid’s meal, or be it the times their crayons broke when they colored a bit too hard. It reminded him how he hated having to deal with the fits; how sometimes nothing he did calmed them down, and how sometimes his scoldings made matters worse.

As the years go by, those memories only served to resurface as a reminder to him how much he took those moments for granted. Those memories only pop up to make him realize just how quiet his life had become, suffocatingly so.

Joseph’s voice returning in clarity broke him out of the dissociation to by-gone days. He heard his voice, but didn’t hear the words, didn’t hear the question or statement he returned with. But he hummed to acknowledge him, a simple grunt to let Joseph know he was still on the line.

“Ah, anyways… Dang, what was I gonna say before that?” some clicking of the tongue while he pondered his thoughts. “Well criminy, that thought left me.”

“It’s fine. Look, I’ll be there in a few. We’ll talk then, okay?”

“Oh, uh, sure! Sorry for the bother, just needed to know when to expect you. I’ll speak to you in a bit!”

“It’s fine, see you soon.”

And with one last goodbye from his friend, Robert disconnected, tossing the phone over to the empty seat beside him.

The day was soon to be over. A holiday unmarked on all calendars. While the world was numerous, only so many people would consider this day spectacular, consider it celebratory. But because the world was numerous, there would be others who treated this day much like he did.

A mourning to a future that never was.

Seven toys to a little one lost. Seven toys that would’ve gone to them, given up for others to enjoy in their place.

_ “Happy birthday, kiddo. Daddy misses you.” _


End file.
